Bartender Asks Play Me a Tune!
by Talc
Summary: Victoria "Vinyl Scratch" Stevens absolutely hates the new cellist her boss, Roderich, hired to work at his bar, Wein Ton, where she works as a bartender. In return, Octavia hates the ostentatious bartender at her new place of occupation. Personal prejudices overwelm both and cloud their vision, but do they realize they have a lot more in common then they realize? Human world AU.
1. New Artist in Town

This is a Hetalia/MLP: FiM crossover take place in an AU wherein Hetalia characters are not countries and MLP characters are humans. Also because of this AU, some MLP characters name's were changed to fit in with realism. It should be obvious who they are though. Also, I can assure you most of my information about bars is false, so don't trust it. I'm working off of very little information.

Pairings: Prussia/Austria, "DJ Pon3/Octavia

* * *

Bartender asks; Play me a tune!

Victoria "Vinyl Scratch" Stevens was a twenty something, inspired young woman, highly skilled in the music department with the ability to mix and perform breathtaking music. Breathtaking music that she never got the chance to play after her two years in college. Breathtaking music her classical-loving, Austrian boss does not appreciate. Breathtaking music that if she doesn't convince him to let her play soon she might just wring his neck!

Honestly, Vinyl's work at the high-class bar _Wien Ton_ (which he assured her meant "Wine Tone" in German, and would never let her forget) was not that much of a pain. She was a pretty good bartender, and it paid extremely well for how low-class it was. Roderich Edelstein, the owner, seemed to really want to help her, despite his comments about her taste in music. Honestly, the guy cared more about music then he did about alcohol, and he owned a bar. But he did seem to care about Vinyl, like she was his daughter or something. Better father than her real one ever was.

Not that any of this is important. This is a love story. But I, the not-so-humble narrator like to set standards. And before I bring out some crude words, I want everyone to know that Vinyl's boss does care about her. He's just a prissy git who is too arrogant sometimes to catch himself. Don't worry; that shit ain't going to stop.

* * *

The beginning of our story of love (or maybe love or like, I don't write the stories, I tell them), starts on the way to _Wien Ton _where in our protagonists, Vinyl, is late. She'd woken up that morning, had a shower and some breakfast before going to dress in her work clothes, some nice pants and a white button-up, a red tie, only to find that a freak rain shower the previous night had soaked her clothes line, making her drying clothes un-wearable. So after freaking out for a few minutes, Vinyl was stuck in some of her nicer jeans and a white t-shirt, along with her tie, which she hadn't needed to wash (because who washes ties?). Then she missed her train and had to take a bike to work, and she stepped in a puddle and overall was not having a good morning. Not to mention Roderich brought it up as soon as he saw her.

"What are you wearing, Vinyl?" He asked in a very arrogant manner, as he often does, holding a cup of coffee, with way to much sugar, in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Vinyl smiled as he said her nickname. Most employers would call her Victoria. Most employers had.

"Forgot to bring the line in, Roddy." Vinyl drawled as she took off her shades, expensive ones with purple and blue reflection and probably Vinyl's most prized possessions, prescription for her sensitive eyes, to smooth back her annoyingly messy hair. It was short and choppy and stuck out in odd places. And bright blue, but she hadn't re-dyed it in awhile, so it was pretty faded out now.

Roderich sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured to the bar. "Sit down, I'll get you one of mine." He started off toward the back room, shouting as an afterthought "Don't sit on the bar!" Just as Vinyl was about to do exactly that. He didn't even look at her, it was terrible.

Vinyl sat on the bar anyways, flicking through the CDs Roderich kept behind the bar to play during the night and when he was working, because the man hated silence more then he hated rap music (Vinyl thought rap music was rather good and listened to it once in a while). Only a few of the CDS were Vinyl's, though, and she only really played them during times when she was cleaning or the bar was empty. Like right now. She reached for one of them, only to be cut off by a strict voice.

"Don't you dare, Vinyl!" Roddy was back with an extra, if not the wrong sized, shirt. He handed it to her and took the CD box from her, storing it under the bar again.

"Why?" Vinyl asked, more like whined, unbuttoning the shirt her boss gave her.

Roderich sighed. "Did I not tell you today is a very important day? I have interviews running, I won't have that stuff playing." Oh. Right. Roderich had something about that a week ago, wanted someone to play live music at the bar to bring some ambiance, and he wouldn't let Vinyl do it. Also, despite his debates against her, he wanted her to help with the interviews.

"Oh yeah, sorry, forgot." Vinyl rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same.

"Put on that shirt and start cleaning, I have to get some paperwork in order." Roderich started off toward the back room, ignoring his employee's condescending "Bye Roddy!" As he left.

Vinyl pulled off her tee-shirt and pulled on the white shirt over her sports bra. It was a pretty good quality shirt, better than hers, but she noticed as she started buttoning it that it would be a bit of a snug fit. Men's shirts do not go over women's assets. She had to suck in her gut and it still hurt. Damn breasts. Hardly a C-Cup and the damn shirt didn't fit.

"Excuse me?" Vinyl had been so busy with the shirt, she hadn't noticed the door open. Voice sounded snooty too.

"We're closed." Vinyl said, sort of rudely. Goddamn this shirt!

"I'm not a customer." The person, Vinyl guessed it was a woman, scoffed.

Vinyl turned around, her shirt only halfway done up and her tie untied and hanging off her neck. Her glasses balanced precariously on her nose, which she moved onto her head as she shot back "Well, aren't you the princess."

The woman in front of her glared. And what a woman she was. Long, black hair, dark eyes and a thin face, dressed in a cravat and grey pant suit. It was almost ridiculous how much she looked like an aristocrat. Ugh. Snooty aristocrats, how Vinyl hated the lot.

"Excuse me, what right do you have to insult me?" The woman asked. even her voice was snooty.

Vinyl pushed her classes back down, this light was seriously killing her sceleras, and snorted at the woman's response. "It wasn't an insult, princess, just a remark. Sheesh, don't take things so seriously." Vinyl crossed her arms, rolling her eyes even though she knew the woman couldn't see her do so. It was the principle of the thing, really.

"It was an insult and you know it!" The woman glared at Vinyl. Oh yeah, she was annoyed.

"No need to get so riled up, honestly princess. Cool it." Vinyl mocked.

The woman scoffed. "You are so uncivilized, it's disgusting."

"And you're so arrogant I can feel the air turn thick with your snootiness." Vinyl shot back, because she honestly felt insulted. Seriously, they just met, they're so stupid. Of course, Vinyl didn't realize she was being just as insulting. No one's a perfect pony, dudes. We all got those biases, like these two!

Anyways, Roderich eventually intervened as the two verbally sparred. He sent Vinyl, begrudgingly, to clean up the bar while he talk to the woman, a "button up your shirt, Vinyl, this is not a brothel" following his commands.

Her name was Octavia, she played the cello and was at _Wein Ton_ ("it means wine tone in German") for an interview, which Vinyl would have known if she hadn't started a fight with her. She wasn't allowed to help Roderich interview this woman, either. which sucked, because Vinyl was kind of looking forward to it, well, not with this woman, but still.

And so Vinyl sulked, and cleaned the bar, and mopped the floor. And when Octavia left, she watched as the next few interviewees came in, and watched as Roderich denied her helping him interview them. Ad she sulked more. She felt like a child, honestly, having been told to sit in the corner and think about what she did. Denied her rights! But she took her punishment anyways, hoping tomorrow this would blow over and that when the interviewees were called back to play, she'd be allowed to hear them.

Despite what Roderich, and most people, seemed to think, she did appreciate well played music. Even if it was classical and snooty.

* * *

As opening time grew nearer, Roderich's other employees showed up. _Wein Ton_ was classy as hell, so of course they didn't make due with just a barkeeper, though Vinyl was the only one. Along with her, though, were a waiter and waitress, a brother and sister coincidentally, and a man who basically just carted around boxes and sometimes handled rowdy customers (not that those were ever allowed in Roderich's bar, cough cough). Vinyl worked full time though, while the brother and sister were going through school and the other man had a morning job.

The sister, a nice blonde girl with a light foreign accent, greeted Vinyl as she came in, her much taller, also blonde brother falling behind her with a nod. They went into the back room while Vinyl cleaned out glasses and got on their uniforms. Roderich was finishing up the last interview and would soon come out to give orders and walk around and generally play host. The manual labor dude was carting boxes inside from out back, so Vinyl could stock up on champagne and fancy wine to serve to arrogant people in coats and dresses.

Vinyl put on some music while she worked, something with a beat and a bass line and all sorts of upbeat things. A warm feeling filled up inside her as she worked, the music making her feel better. By the time the bar was about to open, Vinyl had forgotten about her fight with the woman, Octavia, and forgot about how sulky she had been earlier. And when Roderich yelled at her to turn her music off, she insulted him anyways. And turned it off. No need to tick off Roddy.

So she served alcohol to prissy politicians and bureaucrats and listen to them sneer at her behind her back, call her out on her blue hair and her tight shirt (which wasn't even her fault, damn boobs) and mock her for wearing shades inside. Sometimes, Vinyl wondered why Roderich ever hired someone so out of place for his bar. Bt she never wanted to ask. Honestly, she worried if she ever did, she'd lose her job.

Eventually the rhythm of _Wien Ton_ set in and Vinyl found herself methodically mixing and pouring drinks, sliding bottles down the bar and washing out glasses at top speed. By the nights end, though, she was exhausted. Roderich told her to clean up in the morning, and sent her home. She was glad to trudge back to her apartment, but even more glad to get out of that damn shirt.

It was one of those really dark nights, or would morning be a better word, as the bar closed late, but either way it was difficult for Vinyl to see, even when she had taken off her glasses, exposing her eyes to a world that could not harm them. This late, the streetlamps could only do so much and Vinyl had to stumble home.

The first thing she did when she entered her very small apartment was the laundry. Then she collapsed into her bed and drifted into a very heavy sleep.

* * *

Vinyl used to like Saturdays, but ever since she started working at _Wein Ton_ they'd been the bane of her existence. Why, you might ask? They're so busy! Everyone went to bars on Saturdays, it was ridiculous. Granted, in the past Vinyl had been the sort who would go to clubs and bars on Saturday nights, but now she wouldn't dare to go near one, knowing how hard idiots like her work.

At least she wasn't running late, though, and her shirt was clean and dry and fit. Not to mention Roderich told her she could sit in on the auditions from the previous interviews. She'd been so worried Roderich was still pissed at her for her verbal fight with the one woman, but he said she'd just have to behave herself, lest she be suspended... Vinyl really didn't want to lose her job.

She didn't miss the train today, a huge plus, but still had a nice long walk to the bar. Where she had to wait outside because the door was locked. And then she got bored waiting, so she picked the lock and locked the door with an extra key Roderich ad in the storage closet.

Roderich didn't show up until she was in full cleaning mode, loud, flashy music blasting throughout the whole building, Vinyl dancing along to it as she mopped the floor. The place was a mess after the previous night, but she'd gotten it into order in no time. Roderich did not allow a messy workplace. Speaking of Roderich, to say he was surprised to see Vinyl inside of the bar would be an overstatement. Mostly, he just gave her an odd look, made a remark about upgrading his security system and went to his office.

The day waged on, and soon the first person arrived for auditions. Vinyl watched in boredom as a brown haired woman played the sousaphone. It was nice, but Vinyl never thought the sousaphone was that interesting. And apparently neither did Roderich, as he dismissed her dismally. Vinyl wrote down 'boooooring' on her clipboard for her.

Next followed a slick haired man who played a screechy violin, an instrument so easy to fail at, and a harpist who was fantastic, but the music was extremely melancholy. A pianist, who Roderich almost seemed to flat out reject, gosh the man was a snob, and another violinist, a woman with ridiculous purple hair who could play pretty well, later and Vinyl was at her wits listening to this shit. Granted, some of them played wonderfully, but the stuff they played was so, well, Roderichy, and it was hard to appreciate. Then _she_ walked in and all wits went out the window.

"Octavia Melanson. Oh no." Roderich muttered the last part, looking at Vinyl with a serious sort of glare. "Vinyl. Don't." He said sternly.

"What's that supposed to- oh." Vinyl stopped all protests as she saw the black haired snoot from earlier, dressed in a grey pencil skirt and white blouse with that stupid bow-tie and carrying a large black case in her had, walked toward the stage. And she pulled out a cello, and tuned it, and set it up for playing. Out of the dozen or so people who Roderich interviewed, she had to make it! Vinyl was baffled, but then the music started and she stopped her internal monologues of complaint.

It wasn't perfect, but it was certainly something impressive. Seriously, why in hell did she have to be so good at playing the cello? It was professional like, or something. It was one of the better songs Vinyl had heard all day, and it was animated and passionate and not boring. Vinyl was pissed. How dare this snoot be so good with music? How dare she! And Roderich looked impressed! Vinyl was doomed.

When she finished, the woman left quickly, and Vinyl huffed. Life did not like her right now.

Roderich gave her a look, though the type of look was left for interpretation, before the next person was called in. And soon, they were done with auditions.

"So, let's go over some of the applicants." Roderich started only moments after everyone had left, leading his only full-time employee into his freaking prissy office. Like, seriously, the place is full of instruments and stuff, which is to be expected, but it's decorated like Versailles.

"No violinists. My ears do not like to bleed." Vinyl said straight away, taking a seat in one of Roderich's chairs, sideways to her feet hung over the side.

"The violin can be played well, Vinyl." Roderich said, though it seemed he partly agreed with her, after seeing some of today's applicants. Four violinists, and only one was half decent.

"If it can, I haven't heard it today." She looked through her clipboard of notes, mostly just doodling in the margins, 'cause Roderich's voice is boring. "Hey, how about that guitar guy. He was good."

Roderich gave her a look. He'd been doing that a lot today. "No, he wasn't. That dribble he played was not, under any circumstances, music."

"You're so boring, Roddy. What next are you going to say? That you want that harpist to play?" Vinyl groaned, placing her hand on her head dramatically.

"She was a very good harpist." Roderich countered.

"Yeah, but she played such sad music." Vinyl rolled her eyes, redundantly, but that's not the point. "Geez, I know you want people to drink Roddy, but not that much."

"The harp doesn't always play melancholy music."

"Yeah, it does."

"Well who do you suggest then, Miss Now." Roderich said indignantly, the beginnings of a debate brewing.

Vinyl shrugged, grinning a bit before saying, "I don't know. That pianist wasn't tha-" Roderich didn't even let her finish before he launched off into a rant on specifically why the pianist was terrible, down to every note. Ten minutes later and Vinyl was questioning why he even let a pianist audition in the first place.

When he calmed down, which took quite awhile, he brought up a point Vinyl was rather against. "What about that cellist, the, um, woman, you-" He seemed to be stumbling with his words, idiot, so his employee cut him off. They were doing a lot of that today too.

"She was fine, I guess, for a snooty, arrogant busybody. I mean, she wasn't terrible." Vinyl averted her gaze, still angry at the woman for playing so well.

"I thought she was very good. You know, she used to play for the state philharmonic."

"Why isn't she playing anymore?" Vinyl was intrigued. Why would a priss quit the big leagues for their little bar. Granted, it was a fancy pants bar, but still a bar.

Roderich flipped through his papers, pushing his glasses up his nose whilst looking for the woman's page. "Says here she was suspended for 'artistic differences'."

"Sounds like she got in a fight with another snoot to me." Vinyl shrugged, doodling on her notes again. "Either way, she sounds like trouble. Don't hire her." There was heavy sarcasm in that, but it's not like there isn't always sarcasm in Vinyl's voice. Roderich wouldn't have it, though.

"If you're going to be rude, you can go wipe down the bar and I'll figure this out myself." Roderich said, fussing with his papers in a very annoyed sort of way.

Vinyl pouted. "Fine." She stood and stormed out of the room. It would have been dramatic if she hadn't tripped and fallen on her face. Stupid change in floor height.

* * *

Since Saturdays were so busy, Roderich often called in help from one of his friends to help tend to the bar and deal with the large crowd. This was one of these days said friend was brought in. _Wein Ton_ (It means Wine Tone in German, don't forget it) was almost ready for opening when a tall, stoic man walked into the bar, dressed in a white shirt and green slacks, his blonde hair slicked back in a very clean cut form and his expression extremely serious. This man was Ludwig Beilschimdt, a German friend of Roderich's who apparently had nothing better to do on most Saturdays. He and Vinyl didn't converse much, but as far as Vinyl could tell, he was pretty boring, though a descent guy.

Starting up, the bar got pretty crowded very quickly, and Vinyl was happy with the help. Though she had mix some of the more difficult drinks, Ludwig took place of the more menial things, like beers and wine, which helps the bartender deal with her concentration. Ludwig's presence also tended intimidate the arrogant costumers enough that a lot of them help off their criticism for the night. Not that man didn't still make snide comments about her, but they were toned down, and often followed with an cowered look due to Ludwig glaring at them.

Overall, Saturday was busy and long and terrible, but at least there were some pros. When everyone was filing home, Vinyl turned on some loud music while she cleaned, and with the uplifting power of a steady bass line, the night seemed to end well.

* * *

It wasn't until a few days later that Roderich announced that he'd, finally, chosen who was to be working as their live musician. And still, a couple days more past till they were actually going to work.

Vinyl was mostly too tired, or uninterested to ask who had actually gotten the job, but wasn't too much surprised when the black haired snoot walked in Friday afternoon, her cello case in one hand and a rain jacket in the other. She looked tired, but Vinyl was still pretty miffed by the fact that the woman had outright insult her and was a good musician. It wasn't fair! The arrogant snoot. Vinyl glared at her, but continued working nonetheless, turning up the volume of her ostentatious music, hoping it would annoy the woman, who Vinyl knew the name of, but she refused to acknowledge the fact.

The woman left, anyways, probably to talk to Roderich, so Vinyl didn't have to talk to her, or look at her, which was a plus.

Cleaning a bar is not an easy feet, and Vinyl would never claim otherwise. Typically there was dust everywhere and spilled drink on the floor, which took long enough to clean because a lot of it stained or made a sticky mess, and Roderich does not accept stains. They often have tried to wax the floors to avoid this, but it only works half the time.

Otherwise, there was always the few drinks they'd find in storage that had shattered. Broken glass to clean up and alcohol to mop up and basically a mess. Fermentation problems, sometimes beer blows up. Nothing much to do about it. And then there was just standard wiping down the bar and table and sweeping and mopping the floor. Vinyl was the only one who did this shit, so it took her most of the morning, and that was only if she'd started cleaning after they closed the night before.

Cleaning a bar is not fun. But Vinyl got through it. After working at a bar for awhile, you get used to it. The music helped, too, mostly because Vinyl couldn't stand silence while she worked, but it filled the bar with life, something it normally lacked, and helped keep spirits up.

So cleaning spirits were high, and Vinyl was almost done, just wiping down the bar while she waited for some new boxes to arrive, full of wine. That was, until her music stopped abruptly. Vinyl whipped her head up to see the black haired woman standing by the CD player with her finger on the 'stop' button.

"Hey! What was that for!" Vinyl immediately protested. "I was listening to that you snooty aristocrat!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I have to tune my cello. I can't hear it with that audacious ruckus you're blasting."

Vinyl glared at her. "Ruckus? My music's fine. Leave me alone to work, miss snoot."

The woman looked away in annoyance for a moment before sighing. "Look, I know you don't like me very much and I can see why, with your...taste." She made a look of distaste, glancing at the CD player. "But we're going to have to tolerate each other to keep our jobs. So just...let me do my job." She looked like she was honestly trying to compromise the situation. Vinyl saw reason in this but...It was so hard tolerating someone who obviously looked down on her. Whatever.

"Sure. Why not." She tried to sound disinterested. And not insult the woman.

The woman nodded. "Alright. I'm just going...to go practice." she pointed at the stage, but stopped herself form turning away. "Oh, right. My name is Octavia." She held out her hand.

"Vinyl." The blue haired bartender ignored the woman's hand.

"What kind of name is Vinyl?" Octavia asked, confused.

"Mine. Go tune your fiddle." Vinyl turned away, to go back to wiping the bar.

Octavia stared at Vinyl, aghast. She turned away, toward the stage, obviously offended.


	2. Conflict!

The shipment had arrived, as Vinyl found out from the blonde waitress as she entered the bar with her brother, both of them with damp hair from the continuous downpour. The bartender went to the back of the building to sign for the crate, standing in the doorway to avoid getting too wet. No one else was around, so she had to carry it in herself, though it was much heavier then Vinyl knew she could easily lift, so she more dragged it then carried it. By the time she was able to get it into the back room, her arms felt like lead and her feet were killing her. She made her way to the bar so she could sit and rest.

Approaching the door, she froze as she heard a melancholy noise perforating the air. Octavia must have finished tuning her large fiddle, cause now she was playing a slow, somber song, melodic and beautiful, but also extremely sad. Vinyl frowned, creeping from the doorway to a bar stool and resting her elbows on the bar so she could listen and rest.

Glancing at Octavia, she watched the snooty woman play. Her eyes were closed, her hands gliding smoothly across the strings of the over-sized fiddle. She looked at home. She looked at peace.

Vinyl closed her eyes, smiling wistfully. If only she was allowed to play music like that; not sad and snooty, of course, not that it wasn't nice, but music like that isn't Vinyl's, won't be Vinyl's. Never in hell. No, what Vinyl wanted was music that could make her feel safe when she played it, make her feel at peace. Make her feel at home. Like Octavia looked. Vinyl wished she could play with that sort of freedom. With love. It would be beautiful.

Wishful thoughts left her head as the music came to an end. The bartender opened her eyes and reached for a bottle of tonic water, pouring it into a glass as she heard Octavia setting her instrument down.

"When did you get here?" Her snooty voice asked. Vinyl sipped her gin-and-tonic-without-gin, grinning as she turned around in her seat to look at the woman.

"Oh, you know, a bit ago." She shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes, which went unnoticed by Octavia, who could not see past Vinyl's glasses.

Octavia rolled her eyes in return, turning away from Vinyl. "Well, if you're going to give answers like that..." She said, obviously annoyed. Hm, and I thought they agreed to get along?

"Oh come on, Ms. Snooty Pants. Pull some of that gloom off and lighten up a little. It's not like your fiddle needs anymore tuning." Vinyl was obviously goading her, but she took the bait.

"You do realize cellos and fiddles are not the same thing, right?" She glared.

Vinyl laughed with venom. "Of course I do, Snoot, I do have a brain you know. Though I'm starting to doubt yours works very well, as you don't seem to understand the difference between humor and insult." The sarcasm and menace in her voice was astounding.

Octavia's glare deepened, her eyes dark and foreboding. "What do you understand other than your stupid jokes? What do you have, you...you..." She seemed to be searching for a word that would work as an insult but no include profanity. With an annoyed sound she hissed "Uncouth cretin!"

Vinyl smirked, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not going take that sort of talk from a snoot like you. You think you're so much better than me with your stupid fiddle and your 'classical music'." Her tone was full of a deep hatred, and in the end she knew she'd forget herself and go along hissing at the arrogant woman in front of her. "Well, don't you?" she snapped.

Octavia stared at her, not knowing what to say, being put on the spot like that. In normal circumstances she'd never let herself fall so deep into an argument. But this woman was rude and rash and listened to the most audacious things. And they both were livid. So why not. Why no just say it?

"Well of course I am! You don't care about what I do! You don't understand it! You don't appreciate music! You don't know anything!" She shouted, her voice filled with such vehemence that it left her panting.

Vinyl stared at her, her glasses slipping down her face as she shook with fury. Octavia could just barely see the eyes that were glaring at her, piercing her with the pure anger that was blaring off of Vinyl, hot and burning. "You don't know!" Vinyl shouted, her face heating up.

And then she turned, and she ran, almost knocking Roderich over as she exited the room.

"Vinyl, what is going on in he-" Began the man, with a stern voice, which stopped as he glimpsed the look on her face as she ran past. "Vinyl!" He shouted, his expression immediately turning to one of concern.

Octavia stared, eyes wide, at where the red eyed woman had once been.

* * *

The door slammed as Roderich entered the bar, dripping wet. Octavia looked up hopefully from her seat at the bar. Roderich shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose from frustration. Vinyl hadn't returned and Roderich hadn't been able to find her. Now it was too close to opening time for him to continue looking for her.

He had tried calling Ludwig, to see if he could replace her for the night, but he said he had plans with his significant other and their was no way he could reschedule them. So, Roderich turned to the blonde waitress and her brother, who were sitting at one of the tables, waiting for instructions.

"You're going to have to help me with the bar tonight. I don't know it as well as her." The waitress nodded. Roderich then left the room. He didn't even look at Octavia.

The cellist stared at the floor, wishing she'd been able to hold her tongue. She didn't know what had made the woman leave like that, didn't know the strength of her words. She still felt terrible, though. Alas, words can't be taken back.

"What did you do to her?" A gruff voice asked. Octavia looked up, surprised to ear the voice at all, for its speaker was the blonde waiter, who Octavia hadn't never heard speak yet. Even his sister looked surprised at question.

"I...I didn't _do_ anything to her." Octavia said weakly, looking back down at the ground. She felt pitiful, but couldn't help but defend her case. "We were just...arguing."

The waitress gave her a harsh look. "Well you must have said something."

Octavia furrowed her brows. "I'm...sorry..." Her voice lacked its normal pride. It was entirely regretful, and Octavia hated that.

* * *

The night was hectic. Whilst Roderich was running the bar, the two other employees rushed to hand out drinks. The problem was, though, Roderich didn't understand Vinyl's system and orders were filled out much too slow. No one understood how Vinyl made things run so smoothly.

They relied on Octavia to keep the costumers entertained while they rushed to hand out drinks. Her music was fluid, but melancholy, reflecting her mood. It created a rather gloomy cloud over the bar.

Her first night working at _Wein Ton _(which means Wine Tone in German, if this hasn't been made clear), Octavia learned how cynical the costumers she played for were. They were rude to the wait staff and often complained about those around them. Octavia was bothered by their words, so much like those she had grown up around.

The worst part, though, was they liked her.

"Nice of that Austrian man to finally hire some class."

"Yes, makes the place feel more suited for the crowd it draws."

"She's better then the rest of the workers here. Have you seen that waitress? Annoying blonde."

"I wonder if that garish woman quit? The bartender?"

"Let's hope so. Maybe he fired her, realized how rude she was."

"Hopefully this place will finally be free from that riff-raff."

Octavia tried not to let her emotions show, to make her face reflect her concentration on the music instead, but she couldn't help the lump that formed in her throat as she heard those words.

* * *

Vinyl did not return that night. Roderich sent the blonde siblings home before they had a chance to try and clean the bar, saying that they'd handle it tomorrow, they worked hard enough for one day. Octavia packed up her instrument slowly, the dreaded feeling of shame from earlier seeping out of the empty bar and find itself a home in her.

She sighed. Picking up her cello and walking toward the door. Hopefully, the blue haired bartender would return tomorrow and Octavia could apologize.

"Octavia, could I speak to you?" Roderich asked, using one of those very calm voices that were dripping with stern disappointment.

Octavia stopped in her tracks. Oh right, she had been expecting this. "Sir?" She said, trying to hide her feelings behind an equally calm voice. She turned toward her employer, who waved her over to the bar.

"You remember what I told you when I hired you, correct?" She should, the conversation had only happened about a week ago. Octavia nodded. "What did I tell you?"

"You'd only hire me if I promised to avoid conflict with the bartender." She said, paraphrasing from memory. It had been a long talk in which Roderich described how employees should a get along and how fighting would just lead to tears, not a better community. Octavia had thought, at the time, that it was really unnecessary.

Roderich nodded. "Why then, were you and Vinyl fighting today?" He asked, implying a sense of 'what was so terrible that you risked your job?' He was being very calm about the whole situation, but you could see how serious he was just by looking at his face. He really look like he was on the brink of glaring.

"Well, sir, I don't really know how the argument began." Octavia explained nervously. "Vinyl was insulting my instrument and I retaliated."

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying Vinyl started the fight?"

Octavia furrowed her brows. "Yes, sir, I am. Though, to make things clear, I'm not saying she is the only one to blame."

Roderich stared at her. "You'll clean the bar tomorrow." The Austrian man said, naming her punishment, which Octavia was to glad to see wasn't her being fired. He then stood abruptly, waved to her in a way that said 'go' and walked toward the back of the room, where he sat at a small piano in the back and played. The song was very melancholy, but loud and rash. It was also extremely well played. Octavia walked out of the bar before the song ended.

* * *

Everyone arrived earlier than normal the next day. Except for Roderich, that is, who had gone to look for Vinyl via visiting her apartment. Everyone else helped clean the bar, especially Octavia, whose heart was still full of guilt from the incident that had happened the previous evening. The bar was cleaned much quicker than normal, though, with the work of three people, but by the end they wondered how Vinyl did it all by herself. Roderich required a lot of work to be done, and it was too much for one person.

As time waged on, neither Vinyl nor Roderich appeared. Octavia got around to tuning her cello, the waiter and waitress kept casting worried looks toward the door and soon to began to grow close to opening time. But Roderich did not arrive. Vinyl did not arrive.

Eventually, it was decided that Octavia would help the blonde waitress tonight and the waiter would take Vinyl's role, but as this decision was made, the door to the bar opened.

Everyone turned their heads to look, but their hopeful expressions soon turned to worried ones as a tall, blonde man stepped into the bar.

"Roderich says he'll be late." Ludwig said, taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves. "I'll be filling in for him and Vinyl till he arrives. The cellist should resume her normal duties and you two," He pointed at the waiter and waitress, "Should carry on as normal. Understood?" Octavia, who was not used to Ludwig's demands, looked rather confused, but the others nodded and stood to take their stations.

Octavia stood, staring for a moment, as Ludwig walked to the bar. "I am Ludwig Beilschimdt, a friend and colleague of Roderich's." The man explained, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket and reading that instead of looking at Octavia. "You are Octavia Melanson, correct? The musician Roderich hired?"

"Yes." Octavia replied, slightly intimidated by this man.

Ludwig said nothing more, but focused on the paper. By the way he was reading it, it seemed to be a set of instructions given by Roderich. Octavia left him to the instructions in favor of her cello. Soon, people would begin to arrive. She needed to be ready.

Vinyl did not return that night, but Roderich did, looking rather frustrated. He locked himself in his office for awhile, and if you walked b it you'd heard the loud sound fo a piano being played. at the end of the night, Ludwig went to go talk to him and left mumbling to himself. Octavia went home without talking to anyone.

* * *

Meanwhile, Vinyl was on the other side of the city, sitting at the bar of a loud, racy club. She watched as people danced provocatively under flashing lights in colors like blue, red, and green, a giant mass of sweat and limbs, moving rhythmically to the loud music. The kind of music Vinyl liked; flashy stuff that really had no meaning, but that you could move to in ways no other music could; the kind of music that was so loud you couldn't hear the words, and it didn't matter. The blue haired woman sipped her drink, wincing because she knew she cold have made it better then this seedy guy who kept giving her weird looks, but smiling because the music was soothing. She was mulling over her thoughts, trying to relax her mind. Soon she'd have to return, she'd run out of money before she could ruin herself, she knew that, but for now she'd relax.


	3. Wait

It is surprising to Vinyl when she awakes Sunday morning to the light that is streaming into her eyes through her window and she doesn't have a hangover. It feels weird to know she went to a club and to remember everything that happened, to not have drunken more than one crap drink.

Honestly, it felt nice.

The night did not come racing back to her, she didn't need to think about it, nor did she really want to, but she recalled it all the same. She had sat at the bar of a local club, had drunken an alcoholic beverage of terrible quality, listened to fast paced music with ambiguous meaning, and generally had not gotten drunk. This was not a typical night for Vinyl, but it had been nice. It cleared her mind.

Vinyl blinked away the blurriness in her eyes and glanced around the room. She took note of the fact that she almost never slept enough to feel sluggish these days, it felt like nostalgia by now, and nostalgia felt nice. But it was still pretty early for her to be awake, so she took her time getting out of bed and went to look for her work clothes, which she noticed hadn't been put in the laundry two nights ago. Shrugging, she threw on a less professional, but clean, outfit and headed for her small kitchenette to get a glass of water. She felt tired, but water wouldn't really help, not that getting some caffeine would be convenient.

Though Vinyl quite likes coffee and appreciates it's taste and finds it helpful in waking up at odd hours, she doesn't own a coffee maker and can't really afford one. Coffee would be nice, though.

So Vinyl grabbed her jacket and keys and walked out of her apartment door. She'd just have to be late for work today.

* * *

Roderich arrived at _Wein Ton_ (Which in case you have forgotten, as it hasn't been mentioned in awhile, means Wine Tone in German) early that Sunday morning, much earlier than he had arrived at his own establishment in years. Immediately, he turned to cleaning.

In Roderich Edelstein's whole life, there were very few things the man ever did for himself. He always did things for others. He played piano for others. He dressed up for others. Ate for others. As he got older, he realized he wanted to start doing things for himself, things to make him feel satisfied. Cleaning became one of those things. He liked cleaning, liked being in a clean environment. It was somewhat calming, like playing the piano.

He didn't clean his bar often, he would admit, as it was Vinyl's job; he paid her to take care of his business. But it was nice to clean it now, even with the melancholy events that brought about these feelings.

Roderich did not want to think about Vinyl. The pain of it was stabbing. He did not want to think about what would happen if she didn't come back. If she was hurt? In more ways then one? He worried, and he cleaned. Cleaned away the pain, the gloom and the tiredness in his eyes, pulled up a facade. He did not care. She was just an employee.

The door opened. Roderich could not stop himself from looking up. His expression must have betrayed him. He must have looked hopeful, for the woman standing the doorway grimaced as she saw him. She walked over to the bar and picked up a rag and started to help him clean. Roderich frowned. Octavia avoided his gaze.

They cleaned silently, knowing that if they opened their mouths they'd say something stupid, something painful. So they cleaned, pretty efficiently for two people who didn't look like they knew what they were doing. They defiantly looked out of place, in their suits, bowties and cravats.

Farther into the afternoon, they were almost done and would be opening soon. They'd given up on wishing Vinyl would arrive, they started to realize she wouldn't come back when the waiter and waitress arrived. But, then the door opened, and entered Vinyl, in all her blue hair glory, dressed in an acceptable outfit for work, a Styrofoam cup in her hand. Everyone looked up, looking surprised beyond belief.

"What's with the looks, guys, someone die?" She said, as if the looks had no effect on her, walking to the bar to set down her drink. "Sorry I'm late, went to get some coffee. The line was soooo long though." Everyone was still staring at her, which she quickly took notice of. "And hey, you cleaned! But you...Hey, what's wrong?" Vinyl's voice went soft. Roderich stood, slowly walking over to the woman.

"Vinyl. Where were you?" He asked in a calm voice that tottered at the edges into something angry, something stern.

Vinyl's smiled dissolved. She looked down, avoided Roderich's gaze. "I'm sorry Rodney..." She muttered.

"I was worried."

"I know."

"You could have called."

"I was...you know..."

Roderich crossed his arms. He looked like a disapproving parent, though maybe in this case he was one. "Let's talk in private." He put his hand on her back and lead her to his office.

Octavia watched the two go, silent and without a word to say. She could not move from her spot.

* * *

"Sit." Roderich pointed to the chair in front of his desk. He then pulled out his own and set it next to hers. He didn't want there to be a desk between them.

Vinyl stared at her feet.

Roderich sighed. "Vinyl, I understand you were upset but, you just can't run off like that." He began, trying to use the sort of voice that would fit the situation. Roderich Edelstein is not a comforting man. "People worry."

"I didn't want to talk." Vinyl admitted. "It's easier to forget then talk and remember."

Roderich stared at her. "But in the midst of forgetting, you cannot forget about those you want to remember."

Vinyl closed her eyes, furrowed her brow. "I can't do this." She said quietly.

"Don't be an idiot." Roderich's voice turned from comforting to his more normal, more snooty voice. "You have the strongest will."

Vinyl grinned, ever so slightly.

Roderich smiled too. They sat in silence.

"She didn't know what she said." Roderich said, after awhile.

"I can't stand her." Vinyl admitted.

"Apologize, regardless." Roderich stood, and Vinyl stood, and they stared at one another. They left the room together.

* * *

Vinyl walked out of the room with a smile on her face. It was a mask, but a nice, convincing one. She greeted the blonde waitress and her brother, who had just changed into their working clothes. They stopped moving. "I'm not a ghost." Vinyl grinned. She then turned to Octavia, who hadn't moved, who stared at Vinyl too, but with a look more somber than those of surprise. "Hey, fiddle-girl, we need to talk."

She lead Octavia to the back of the building and sipped her coffee as she stared at the grey wall in front of her. She glanced at Octavia. "Rodney says I worried you."

"I didn't mean to make you leave." Octavia responded quietly.

Vinyl laughed humorlessly. "It wasn't you that made me leave, it was your words." She paused for a moment, contemplating her next words. "Look, I just want to apologise for making you worry like that. I didn't want you to worry. Hell, I didn't think you would. Or anyone for the matter. Sometimes people disappear, it's not a big deal, it happens all the time. But you worried. So sorry."

Octavia fiddled (heh, fiddled) with her hands, wringing them nervously. "I, um, Vinyl, I'd like to apologise for something else." She said, softly, after a moment of silence.

"Speak your words, snoot." Vinyl glanced at Octavia, taking another sip of her coffee.

"I, um, I heard the sort of things the customers say about, well, you, and..." she paused, thinking over her words carefully. Octavia did not want to seem rude or inconsiderate, but she felt like something needed to be said. After all, the world was cold place, and she wanted to make sure she could reassure warmth.

Vinyl froze. "And what?" Her voice was cold. The next words to be spoken would determine a great deal of conflict, I hope you understand. The sort importance that riding on these words, stupendous.

"And I want to apologise for the sort of things you have to go through daily. It's terrible, the way they treat you. I just...No one should be treated that way." She refused to meet Vinyl's gaze. Vinyl, in return, stared at her.

She bit her lip. "Thanks." She mumbled, then walked past the cellist, into the bar, and out of Octavia's view. The woman stared at her feet for a second.

"You coming fiddle-girl?" A shout rang from inside. Octavia blushed, rushing inside.

* * *

When the bar opened up that night, it felt almost as if Vinyl never left. The music was good, the drinks were made much better, though Vinyl did complain that somebody, probably Ludwig, had reorganized all her liquor, which slowed her down a bit as nothing was where it should have been. Roderich seemed more relaxed then he had been the past few days, yet he kept casting a sad gaze toward Vinyl. Octavia took notice of this, but said nothing. The relationship between the two never made much sense, not to anyone, and it was very difficult to explain.

As the night wore on, she kept picking up those rude comments again. No one seemed too happy Vinyl was back. Breaks between the music left Octavia with a hurt feeling deep inside her, the painful remarks eating her up.

"Ugh, that woman is back."

"I had hoped Edelstein finally fire her."

"It's like this place is sullied by her presence."

"Such class, thrown out the window."

Octavia closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her forehead, willing away the headache the comments were bringing about. She wondered if Roderich knew about the sort of things people said to Vinyl. If he did, why didn't he stop them?

At the end of the night, Octavia began to pack up her instrument. She saw Vinyl across the bar, cleaning up a particularly nasty beer spill at one of the back tables. She'd turned on some of that horrific music she seemed so fond of and was swaying to it rhythmically, her hips moving back and forth as she dug her muscles into the spill. Octavia scoffed at the music, but bit her tongue, knowing what sort of abuse she would be spitting. Instead, she picked up her case and left, the chilling air hitting her as she swept outside.

* * *

The days passed on slowly, but without major fault. There were still small disagreements between Vinyl and Octavia, but not all out brawls. There conversations, to be honest, were more comedic then malignant. One might say they were even...getting along. Sometimes Vinyl would make Octavia sit down with her after work and talk a bit. Vinyl would even bring Octavia drinks during her breaks, water and stuff; non-alcoholic, of course, 'cause Roderich would gut Vinyl if he knew she was drinking on the job. And Octavia tried, a few times, to play cello adaptations of modern music. She didn't think Vinyl really notices (Vinyl noticed).

Roderich was happy to see his two employees get along better. Not that they were friends or anything, but the tenseness of the workplace dispersed after Vinyl returned, letting him relax his shoulders a bit. He breathed easier with the idea that Vinyl wouldn't run off again. Roderich even accompanied Octavia on the piano, once or twice, which really reflected his good news.

Not everything was rainbows, of course. There were still the choice few guests who would harass Vinyl, or get dead drunk, or complain about the music, or not pay. But those were normal problems, not existential crises. Everything was pretty boring, for awhile at least.

* * *

Vinyl was mixing a cocktail for some snooty rich guy who had been glaring at her all night while Ludwig was busy filling out orders for beer to the right of her. She hated Saturday nights, as often stated, everyone seemed to eager to drink. She could see Octavia, out of the corner of her eye, playing with adept concentration; a long, drawn out tune that sounded very happy in melody, but to a trained ear was obvious to be written with a sad undertone. Across the bar, Roderich was seen talking to a guest, making sure he was happy or something. Vinyl finished the cocktail, passing it down to the rude man, who dared to give a scathing remark about the quality of his drink. He was shot down when Ludwig gave him a hard, cold stare. People.

Vinyl then turned to the Blonde waitress, who was waiting to give an order. Halfway between pouring a drink, she froze. The waitress understood what was happening; took the bottle from her and pushed Vinyl towards the door. "Go." She whispered. Like it was planned, Ludwig immediately took over Vinyl's job. Vinyl raced to the back of the Bar, to Roderich's office, where he was filling out paperwork.

"Rodney." Vinyl pleaded. Roderich shot up.

* * *

When Octavia finished her song, she glanced at Vinyl only to see her leave the room, her expression frantic. Octavia glanced toward the door, catching the eye of an older man with grey streaked hair that was slicked back the way everyone combed their hair these days. He wore a highly expensive looking suit with a blue bowtie and had a pencil thin mustache. Octavia knew who he was instantly; Frederick Pantin, nicknamed 'Fancy Pants' by the papers, as he was one of the richer politicians out there. He was known for his good looks and charisma and also had no business being in this, though high-class, nameless bar (which, let me remind you, does have a name. It is called _Wein Ton_ and means wine tone in German).

He smiled at Octavia. It was one of those, warm, practiced smiles that made insides melt and hearts swoon. Of course it had this effect on Octavia, though it was downplayed by her underlying suspicion. out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roderich enter the room. He seemed calm, and waved at her to start playing, so she started playing. But she kept an eye on 'Fancy Pants' who was making his way toward Roderich in a polite fashion.

* * *

Vinyl sat in Roderich's office by the wall, listening to the voices coming from the other side. She hugged herself tightly, trying to keep a straight face as she barely made out Roderich's voice.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

"Yes, you are the manager, correct? I'm looking for a young woman. I have reason to believe she is one of your employees. Here." There was a pause. "Her name is Victoria."

Vinyl clutches to her arms, scratching her nails in to hang on. Instinct told her to bolt, but she stayed put.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have anyone named Victoria working here." Vinyl smiled softly. Oh Rodney... "You must have the wrong establishment."

"I don't think I do."

* * *

Octavia watched as the two conversed. It seemed pleasant enough, though Roderich's expression was colder, more professional than it tended to be when dealing with costumers. Ludwig, Octavia noticed, was watching the two while he worked, as well. The waitress seemed to be working with a more nervous quick pace then she normally did. Her brother was keeping an eye on everyone. Then 'Fancy Pants' handed Roderich a piece of paper. Roderich frowned, glancing at the paper with distaste. Then he said something and the gentleman's expression grew angry. She watched him leave in a fit of composed rage. Roderich glanced at her, they caught each other's gazes. Then he quickly left for the back room.

Octavia kept playing.

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but there is no Victoria working here. I cannot help you." Vinyl listened for the rebuttal, but heard nothing more to fit. Then, seconds later, Roderich entered the room, his expression unreadable.

"Is he gone?" Vinyl asked quietly. Roderich nodded.

"I don't know how he found you." He said, in the same quiet voice. Vinyl stood from her seat slowly, her head bowed. When she looked up, Roderich was in front of her, giving her a soft look. He offered his arms, and she let herself be hugged.

"I'm sorry, Roderich. I didn't think...The things he could do." Her voice was still quiet, measured and control to not show her fear. "I didn't think he'd come in person. It's never been just him before."

Roderich rubbed small circles on her back and held her gently. "You don't choose these things." He said, smoothing her hair.

"I know."

"I know you do."

Vinyl and Roderich let go of each other and Vinyl frowned. "Fuck families." She muttered.

Roderich rolled his eyes and hit her playfully on the head. "Don't swear."

Vinyl giggled. "Alright, Rodney." Then skipped past him to man the bar.


End file.
